This chapter is all still from the contest entry, so if you want to skip it feel free. I'll let you know when there is new material. Sorry it's taken so long to get this out. It's been a busy few weeks with visitors not allowing me even a moment to sneak off to post. This is only a short one, but I plan on posting chapter 3 tomorrow which should see the end of the material submitted for the contest entry. After that we should be into new and expanded work, but that will be a couple weeks off yet, I'm afraid, as I still have to write it! Oh for more hours in the day, or the ability not to need to sleep.

For those new to this, or those reading it for the second time: enjoy.

Chapter 2

When the elevator pings its arrival, I look up as the doors open expecting to see an empty car, but instead, I'm met by the same green eyes that met mine this morning. The same eyes that have been invading my thoughts all day.

Holy crap. What is he doing here? It's after midnight by now. Who works this late? Then I realized the irony of that question.

"Coming?" he asks with a sexy smirk and a rise of his eyebrow, and I realized I've just been standing and staring.

"What? Umm … yeah," I stammer incoherently as I step forward. "Are you going down?" I ask as I reach forward to press the button for reception.

"Only if you'll let me," he says in a low seductive voice. My eyes snap up to his.

And I'm captured. I can't look away. I'm vaguely aware of the elevator starting to move. I watch him as he slides his ever-present phone into the pocket of his jacket before bringing up his hand and running his long fingers through his unruly bronze hair. I remember where those fingers were this morning and the effect they had on me. I want them on me again.

This is not me. I'm the sensible girl. I'm not the one who gets seduced by strangers in the elevator. But, boy, I've wanted this man for so long.

Then he's taking a step toward me. I feel my teeth sink into my lower lip. I suddenly feel very hot. His hand comes up to my face, cupping my chin, as his thumb pulls my lip free.

"You have no idea what that look is doing to me right now. That whole big-eyed, innocent expression. But we both know you're not that innocent, don't we? I see the look you try to keep hidden. The look that says 'fuck me now'."

Is that what my face is saying? Am I that readable? Because, shit, if he fucked me now, my life would be complete.

"I know I shouldn't be doing this," he continues, "but, fuck, I want to. I want you, and I'm a man who is used to getting what he wants. Besides, your performance this morning, and the look you're giving me now, leads me to believe you want this as much as I do."

Then he's leaning closer. I can smell his cologne, the one I try to get close enough to smell each and every morning. I can feel his breath against my cheek; the breath that sent shivers down my spine earlier today. I can feel his warmth, but it's not close enough. Not yet.

I watch, captivated as he leans past me and presses the stop button on the elevator panel, and we come to a sudden, jolting halt. I stagger a little, but before I have time to move much, I find myself pushed up hard against the cold, hard metal door, sandwiched between it and an equally hard chest. He must work out.

His lips find my neck. "I've been thinking about kissing you here all day," he murmurs against my skin before his lips start to suck and kiss the delicate flesh. I allow my head to fall to the side, giving him better access, feeling helpless to resist his touch. Then I feel his tongue flick out and lick my skin. The shivers are back. The things I've imagined him doing with that tongue.

There is a vague question in my mind about whether this is appropriate behavior, about what would happen if we were found out. But I'm pretty sure we are the only two people left in the building. The chance of exposure is low. Then his lips are on mine, and any thoughts of being found, of the consequences for my career, go flying from my head. One of his hands is cupping my chin, his long fingers weaving back into my hair as he holds me just where he wants me. The other is running up my thigh as it did this morning. But this time, I'm hoping for more than a quick touch, so much more.

His hand reaches its destination, and I take in a sharp breath. He pulls back again to look me straight in the eye, smirking.

"Fuck, you're as wet as you were this morning. Is it me that does this to you? Is it the thought of my fingers on your body that makes you so wet? Is your body crying out to you to let me fuck you, here, now, in this elevator?" As he talks, he rubs his fingers back and forth, over the material of my underwear. The feeling is intense as he uses just the right amount of pressure to tease me but leave me wanting more. Then I feel him pull the material to one side, and he slowly, oh so slowly, slides one long finger up inside me. All coherent thought is gone. I want this man, and I want him now.

"Take me, please," I manage to say. He chuckles and then his lips are on me again, but his finger disappears. I let out a moan of frustration into his mouth, which only makes him chuckle once more.

"Don't worry, sugar lips, I'll see you all right." Suddenly, I feel my skirt being pushed up so it is bunched around my waist, leaving me exposed. He moves back from me slightly, removing all touch. I remain with my back pressed up against the elevator door as he looks me up and down, his eyes devouring me. "Perfection," he mutters, then his hands reach out for my hips. They take hold of the sides of my lacy panties and he crouches down in front of me so he can slide them down my legs. I lift my feet to allow him to slip them off over my heels, and he stuffs them into his jacket pocket. The one holding his phone that is usually glued to his hand. He looks up at me from his position on the floor, his nose level with my lady parts, and he leans forward. I hear him breath in my scent before his tongue briefly stretches out and flicks across my sensitive nub. My God, that feels good, so good. I need more of that.

He looks back up at me, smirking. "I'd love to stay down here and get a real taste of you, but I don't think we have long, and I want to fuck you so badly."

He stands back up, keeping his eyes on mine as he does. I'm ready to combust. My whole body is tingling.

As soon as he is upright, he is on me. One hand is in my hair, the other on my hip. His lips crash into mine, sucking, pulling, owning. His tongue plunges into my mouth, claiming me. Then I feel the hand at my hip move between us, and I hear the sound of a zipper and realize he must be freeing himself from the confines of his pants. I have wrapped my arms around his neck, running my hands through his hair, pulling him closer, but I want to explore what he has going on downstairs. I start to move one hand round to his firm, toned, yet still disappointingly covered, chest before exploring lower. But then he stops me.

He grabs my wrist, moving my hand until he holds it level with my head. "As much as I want you to touch me, I want to be inside you more." His words echo my desire, but before I can think any further, his other hand takes hold of my thigh and pulls my leg up around his hip. I feel him shift slightly, and then, with one deep thrust, he is in me, deep and hard. The feeling is indescribable, but he doesn't give me long to get used to it. He pulls out nearly all the way before he's once again in me so deep. Then the rhythm starts. Initially, he makes long hard strokes, but the pace quickly picks up. By this stage, I have both legs wrapped around him, and my fingers dig hard into his shoulders. My back is being driven against the door of the elevator again and again, and I know I will be bruised in the morning, but I don't care. His left hand rests under my butt cheek, fondling, stroking, caressing. The other is in my hair, holding my head where he needs it to give him access to my neck. This hand is now moving down and between our bodies, up under my work shirt to fondle my breasts. His hands are like fire, sending shivers of energy through my body. He pulls down my bra cup, giving himself direct access to my nipple, he gives it a squeeze. The sensation, just on the edge of being painful, is too much, and I scream as I reach my climax. As I do, I feel his lips increase their pressure on my neck, sucking, licking, and biting.

"That's it," he moans, into my skin. "Come for me, sugar. Let me feel you."

I relax into him, but he's not done with me yet. He slides out of me and turns me around. "Look at yourself," he says as he directs my attention to the heavily polished metal door where I can see a reflection of the two of us staring back. He is holding me around my waist, his beautiful face looking over my shoulder with such a dark look in his eye. I look disheveled, lust-filled, and thoroughly fucked. But it would appear not fucked enough as he slides back into me from behind. I rest my hands against the door and watch him as he watches me in the mirrored surface.

"Every time you ride in this elevator. Every time you look in that mirror. I want you to be reminded of me and what I do to your body. What I'm doing to your body now." As he talks, he pushes hard into me. In and out, again and again. The feeling is powerful, intense. I lean my head back on his shoulder, using the surface of the door as leverage to push my hips back into him harder, meeting every thrust of his hips. I can't help the primal sounds that are emanating from my throat as he possesses me completely. His wandering hands have once again found my nipples, and it is all becoming too much. I'm rising again, and I know it's only a matter of time before I have my second orgasm. In the past, I've struggled even to come once from penetrative sex, but whether it's the man or the situation, my body is on fire tonight.

"Look at yourself," he demands again. "You're loving me being inside you. You're loving what I do to your body." His breath is in my ear as he speaks, and I'm so close. Then his hand is on my clit. He rubs with just the right amount of pressure and it's all a need. I come again with an almighty roar that I'm sure can be heard on all floors, if there was anyone else in the building.

As I shiver in his hold and my body spasms, I feel him push once more into my tired, sated body, holding me upright as he does, before he too cries out, throwing his head back, then we both collapse to the floor in a heap of limbs.

He cradles me against him in his arms as we both regain our breath and our strength.

"Fuck, that was intense," he says as he runs his hand up and down my bare thigh, occasionally going high enough to run over my ass cheek.

He looks down at me into my eyes. "Are you okay?" he asks.

I don't know what to reply. I've dreamt of being with this man but never expected it to happen. Now that it has, I don't know what to think. I never thought I'd be the sort to have sex with a man in an elevator, especially not a man whose name I don't know. On the one hand, I feel liberated, like now that I've had him, here, I can do anything. On the other, I feel like this shouldn't have happened. I'm not that sort of girl. But I can't tell him any of that, so I just nod before extricating myself from his arms and finding my legs, albeit a little wobbly.

He rises also, pulling up and zipping his pants as he does. Then without speaking, he presses the button to release the elevator, and it resumes its descent as we both straighten our clothes. I don't ask for my underwear back, and he doesn't offer to give it to me.

Neither of us say a word as we complete our journey. At the first floor, the doors open, and I step through to the lobby. He holds the door and leans his head out. The place is deserted, except for a lone security guard sitting behind the desk looking at us curiously.

"How are you getting home?" he asks. "It's late," he clarifies, "you shouldn't walk home alone."

"I've ordered a cab; it should be here soon," I say quietly.

He looks toward the security guard.

"Stay inside until it gets here. Embry will look after you," he says, nodding in the direction of the security guard.

I nod my agreement, and then he's gone. The elevator doors close, giving me one last glance at those penetrating green eyes before he is whisked away to the underground parking lot.

Thanks as always to Robfansteinpire and Alice's White Rabbit who helped sort out my ramblings into something resembling American English (I've learned - not learnt - that you don't use the word till in place of until, and whilst we use whilst you prefer while.) Writing outside your normal dialect can be tricky, so if any Britishisms have slipped through I do apologise.